


Five Times Gene Was Right

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst and some fluff, Author really needs to get something to eat before she passes out, Hints of canon appropriate violence, M/M, five times fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 10:31:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15265560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: Just what it says on the tin.





	Five Times Gene Was Right

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! A random thing I wrote. Do you want fluff? Cause this is gonna end in fluff.

> **I. Gene was right about Sam**

Sam was living the life.

For months he'd quietly lusted after his oft violent, sometimes homophobic boss. While he should have been focused on anything else – on fighting to wake up, on figuring out why he was _here_ – it was Gene Hunt who constantly consumed his thoughts.

It was a week like any other. Sam had forgone a visit to the pub because someone needed to make sense of their current mishmash of cases, and the only person he trusted with it was himself. Overworked and exhausted and closer than ever to losing his mind, he hadn't expected to see Gene again that night – but there he was, reminding Sam of the week before, just how stubbornly obstinate and incapable of seeing reason he could be.

Gene offered him a few snide remarks – Sam shot back as good as he was given. It didn't take long before he was ready to punch Gene in his bastardly mouth, so when Gene tried to be the bigger person and back down, Sam – who was in an extra pissy mood – wasn't having any of _that_. He grabbed Gene by his lapels and span him about, shoved him back against the wall.

Sam had been here before, though usually it was the other way around. Gene, instead of pushing him off (which he could have done quite easily) was instead waiting quite patiently to see what Sam would do next. It was perplexing, but perhaps it was some sort of a challenge – or even a joke. Gene went above and beyond for a rare few things, and one of those things was taking the piss out of Sam. Maybe it was necessary, and Sam needed someone to keep him in check – to knock the wind out of his sails when he was feeling too full of himself, to keep him on the straight and narrow. Maybe he did need the sort of friendship that Gene sometimes offered him – barbed and dangerous, but something to be cherished.

Sam rarely let himself marvel at the details of Gene's face, so up close – Gene didn't often give him the chance. He was a bastardly good looking man, there was no way around it. There was nothing classical about it, and Sam already knew that Gene got his motor running – a little too dangerously fast. Still, Sam let himself gaze in wonder at the man before him: his eyes were bluer than they seemed at a glance, his nostrils flared magnificently with each breath, and those oft-bitter lips of his – the mouth Sam had only just thought of punching – appeared to be kissably soft.

He leaned in, a little bit more, aware he was moving, aware that _Gene_ was aware of it, too, and while there was a little concerned voice inside his head telling him to _stop_ , he wouldn't be so easily dissuaded. He held himself perfectly still, licked his lips, and – 

'You wouldn't dare,' said Gene, and that broke the spell; the bravado went out of him in a rush. He shook his head to shake himself out of it, and took a step back. It was not the right time, or he was not the right person, and for all he felt certain he knew what he wanted, he wasn't sure he was ready to risk losing what he already had.

Sam was living the life, but what sort, and what for, he wasn't too sure.

> **II. Gene was right about a case**

Sam didn't always try to piss Gene off.

He'd like his life a whole lot more if they saw more things eye to eye. But, just as he'd grown used to some other things, while his being here no longer had to be a constant fight, old habits did die hard. And sometimes, trying to fix things only made them worse.

It was a simple enough case, which was why Sam didn't understand why Gene couldn't just let it go and admit that Sam was right (coincidentally enough, Gene felt the same way about Sam). Gene called him a contrite wanker for thinking it couldn't be all that cut and dry, and Sam called Gene a stubborn and unimaginative bastard for thinking it could. The evidence said one thing but Gene's gut instinct said another, and two hours later, after Sam had narrowly avoided being shot in the head by yet another gun-toting madman, he wondered some about the patterns that his life fell into, and what he could do to break out of them – maybe he had a type.

He wasn't even hurt that badly. There was a line of red across his temple, from where the bullet had grazed across skin, and while it did burn, he'd had headaches that were worse.

Gene, on the other hand, was furious, and soon led Sam to believe that shouting was how he showed a person that he cared; so whenever punches came into play, clearly that was him declaring his love. As he berated Sam for taking unnecessary risks, and being a bloody naive bastard who asked for it, Sam knew he'd had enough of if it – Gene was right... Maybe not about all that specifically. But maybe yes.

He said as much, and Gene had bitterly laughed. 'I'm not the one who sided with the prick who decided to turn a gun on me. Of course I was right, and you should learn to listen to what I say.'

But Sam did, plenty, and it didn't always go in one ear and out the other. Whatever possessed him to open his mouth and tell Gene _that_ , he'd probably never know.

Sam didn't always try to piss Gene off, but sometimes, that was just par for the course.

> **III. Gene was right about a match**

Sam wasn't actually a walking thesaurus.

While he knew quite a lot about the history of his country and the world at large, he didn't remember every little thing in the exact right order. Sure, he'd be able to make a few good investments over the years and not have to worry about being destitute when he was eventually pensioned off, but he couldn't spout off every single niggling detail about every little thing that happened along the way; about the world, about the city; or every match that City and United had ever played.

Gene had seemed excited about the upcoming match all week; the atmosphere had lightened quite noticeably, and he, in much better spirits, had even invited Sam along to watch. While they'd never spoken about The Incident, there'd still been some strain on their relationship, and it'd shown. Sam had been feeling it, the department had been feeling it, all Sam's numerous bruises had been feeling it. He wondered if Gene, in saying he wouldn't dare, had been a dare of its own – perhaps he'd never figure that out, like a chance that could only ever come once and now it had passed him by.

Still, he'd been caught by complete surprise when Gene had asked him if he wanted to see the game, since they hadn't really been talking, unless it had something to do with work, and this most certainly had nothing to do with the job. He'd waffled about it, but then said yes. It seemed the polite thing to do, and antagonising Gene just to get a rise out of him wasn't actually his favourite thing to do.

It was a surprisingly pleasant experience, even with Gene seemingly wanting to incite the United fans to do him bodily harm by sitting with the Sam in the middle of their partition. Sam hadn't been to a match in a very long time, but just being there was exhilarating. He was suddenly quite pleased he'd taken Gene up on his invitation.

'City's going to win,' Gene announced. 'I bet you a tenner.'

Sam, who couldn't remember one way or another, still took the bet and was down a tenner in a matter of hours. He thought it was a fair trade off for a wonderful afternoon with Gene, and Sam considered it a well-earned defeat.

Sam wasn't actually a walking thesaurus, and sometimes, that was alright.

> **IV. Gene was right about Sam (again)**

Sam didn't always know what he was doing.

'You know, sometimes you manage to amaze me, and not just because you're a pain in the arse.'

Sam nodded blankly, and as Gene handed him a flask – Gene kept his best whisky in it, Sam knew it on sight, though this was the first time Gene had ever let him drink from it. Their fingers brushed together, sparking heat all through his hand and all up and down his spine and Sam thought again about dares, and chances, and once in a lifetime opportunities passing him by. He lifted his head up to make eye contact, and there was something curiously open about Gene's expression. It wasn't the first time he had ever looked at Sam so frankly, but Sam wanted more of it. He wanted to be let in.

'Thanks.' He took a slow drink of the whisky, closed his eyes to savour it as he swallowed it down. It burned – a lot of his interactions with Gene, big or small, _stung_ – but the pain helped him to appreciate it better, it always did.

'That was good thinking out there. Why you thought to send in Ray, I'll never know, but it was the right decision.'

'Why are you so surprised? Is it because I'm the one who made it?'

Gene sighed heavily, and took the flask as Sam offered it back to him. 'I know you're a good copper, Tyler – never said you weren't.'

Sam frowned in concentration – honestly, he couldn't remember whether Gene had or hadn't, and surely he'd remember such an important moment as that. Sam shrugged, because he didn't feel as though he'd done anything too impressive. 'Just doing my job.'

'Yeah,' Gene said, setting his free hand on Sam's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. 'And you did a good job.'

Sam didn't always know what he was doing, but sometimes, it still came out alright.

> **V. Gene was right about them**

Sam was sure it couldn't be as easy as all that.

He needed to get his head on straight, but that didn't explain what led him to the rooftop of the station; he'd tried getting caught up on paperwork, but couldn't seem to focus. Out on the rooftop, he could breathe, and he could think – the sky went on forever, impossibly clear and wide, and as Sam stared at it, he felt just as impossibly small. This was home now – he'd picked 1973, and give it enough time, it'd be 1974 – but sometimes, he felt himself stuck in the middle of something he couldn't possibly hope to comprehend.

But he wanted to, after everything else.

'What the hell are you doing up here?'

The wind whipped at his hair. He turned to look at Gene, who was scowling into the clear blue sky. It made Sam smile, not that he really knew why. 'Needed to clear my head.'

'Did it work?'

Sam shrugged, then turned to look out across the city. 'Never really does.'

This time, Gene chuckled – Sam did, too.

'That's because it spends too much time stuck up your own arse.'

'That's true.'

They stood a while in silence. It was really quite comfortable, and Sam – because Gene was standing right beside him, was almost asking for it – leaned so his shoulder was pressed against Gene's arm. Gene didn't push him away – he could have, and quite easily. No, they stood a little longer in the silence, simply enjoying each other's company, and the city view.

'Sometimes I'm not sure it's worth it.'

'You wonder that, so of course it is.'

'Is it really that simple?'

'It is for me, thankless though it is. You're the one who needs to complicate everything, always having to ask why.'

That, thought Sam, was also true.

'I was wrong.'

'Saints above. About what?'

'Us.'

'I'm all ears, Tyler – what _us_ do you speak of?'

'You know what I'm talking about.' Sam sighed.

Gene wiggled an eyebrow at him, and there was a curl at the edge of his lip that he could very well get away with calling a smile. He knew exactly what was going on, but still, he was acting the fool, or maybe this was Gene Hunt playing hard to get. 'I need you to try a little harder than that.'

'I was scared,' Sam went on because, when in doubt, honesty was the best policy, and Gene seemed to be in too good a mood to hit him all that very hard. 'Didn't realise it at the time, but that's why I backed down.'

'Because you're a nancy,' Gene commented.

Sam nodded. 'Sure, you can put it like that.' Perhaps it was an inelegant solution, but it got the job done.

He drew away so their arms were no longer touching, and turned so they were facing. Gene gazed down at him, a pout on his lips. Lips that were still, after everything else, still as soft and kissable as ever.

'But I'm not scared any more.'

'Oh?'

He pushed himself into the kiss, knew that there a few outcomes that would very soon hit him – a few of those involved actual fists. As Gene's hand curled at the back of his neck and tugged him in closer, opening himself completely – there was a whole lot more passion there than Sam could have guessed.

He'd thought about it a lot.

Sam was sure it couldn't be as easy all that, but sometimes, it was okay to be wrong.


End file.
